Assassin's Dance
by Absol Master
Summary: Silent, swift and emotionless -- her steps combined in a lethal dance that left her victims stunned, moments before death. But she wasn't always a killer. One event in her past transformed her, turned her into the cruel assassin she became. Oneshot.


Fanfic 59! Alright, this story is following the criteria of my fanfic challenge: a story involving either a White Knight, a Fire Poison Mage or a Ranger with the alternative title of Dance of the Dragon or Phoenix's Song. Mine has the alternative title Dance of the Dragon. Hope you like it.

The main character _isn't _an assassin (as in the Maple job), by the way.

* * *

. Assassin's . dance .

A girl stood on the bank of the river, gaze fallen upon the dark waters below. They roared around the rocks like a great, elemental monster, struggling endlessly to swallow them up in its shifting, gushing jaws.

_A Priest, _she thought. _I will become a Priest when I grow up! _

She was here to begin her training, on the silent grounds of the abandoned garden near her home, on the border between Ellinia and Perion, at the point where the ever-luxuriant forest, sparkling with magic, met the barren, burning mountains, the two territories divided by this river.

Night would fall soon; she had to return by then. But till then, she could do all she wanted. She had been given the permission by her mother. It was at least an hour till sunset. Today, she would kill her first monster, take her first step.

Stepping away from the river, she surveyed the area below the nearest trees. Among the huge roots, there were movements. Snails, she knew. She had seen them before, but never attacked.

Slowly, she crept towards the trees, then broke into a spirited run. _Today, today! I know it'll be easy!_

Why, she killed her very first snail with ease. Without hesitation, she had swept past it with the grace of a swan, and it had missed her completely. She danced, and with the dance, killed the snail with a sharp jab of her sword, every move aided with the momentum of the previous, each step so smooth that they all blended into one continuous motion.

That was she, Rochalia, the one whose dance was beyond human, beyond any ordinary talent. Her skills had been with her since she had started to walk—why she danced so well, no one knew. It was inborn, the grace that so many struggled to attain, and yet she had perfected with ease.

Rochalia was ready for tougher opponents. Treading further into the woods, she found herself a greater, taller monster. A slime, its body gleaming like a gem in the faint forest light, as tall as her.

This, she found easy as well. The creature attempted to flatten her under its weight, but she was too fast. One step and she was out of its range. In a single whirl around the confused monster, she had turned and pierced its shiny skin with the point of her sword. She leapt away triumph as the slime deflated in front of her eyes, its smile gone.

Ecstasy rushed through her. _I feel invincible! _Her heart was in a riot of joy, the power she held, the power to bring a monster's death upon it with a mere deft movement and a touch of her sword, making her feel strong beyond belief.

Surely she could go deeper into the forest?

Then entering the darkness, Rochalia found herself growing less confident. With every step she took in the undergrowth that she could not see, she felt her confidence ebbing, every second taking its toll on her inner strength. Her earlier joy was vanishing, replaced by calm terror.

The first moment when she knew that something was wrong was when she heard a hissing breath from behind the tree trunks. There was something there. But what made that kind of sound? What kind of monster?

_What—_

At once, she found herself facing darkness, tangible and _there_. No, it wasn't just another shadow cast by the treetops; she could feel its presence—overbearing, cold, devoid of life. There was something before her, looming ominously close to her face.

The only sound then, other than its terrible, raspy breathing, was hers, weak and frightened compared to the creature's. And she knew what it was.

_Forbidden Spirit!_

Turning, she got ready to run. She had heard its tale too many times. One brush with the Forbidden Spirit, and all her ability to feel joy would be taken. She didn't want that, didn't want to have to last the rest of her life unable to feel happiness, to enjoy. She had to escape, at the cost of her life, at the cost of all she felt.

Her feet carried her over the undergrowth, through the itchy branches and roots that reached out to grab her and trip her, through the blind darkness, towards the dim trace of light she saw, misted in the distance…

She was almost there. The Forbidden Spirit would never come out into sunlight. Already, the last thin branches were drawing near, the light ever growing brighter. _Almost, almost! _Her heart thumped like a drum in her ears, urging her to take the last few steps, to safety, away from all the danger behind her.

An instant before she finally stepped through the border of the forest into the sunset, she felt hands grab her waist, hold her fast for a few moments. In those seconds, frigid coldness flew through her body, and she suddenly felt tired. She shook with a sudden chill that frightened her, and at the same time, filled her with submission.

_No…!_

Then with one last effort, she pulled through into the bright orange dusk, and the pursuing spirit drew back into the trees, defeated.

Rochalia would have cheered and shouted for joy and relief, she knew. But she didn't feel relieved. She felt simply…empty. She felt as if something in her, some light, had been put out.

_No, it can't be…it was only for one second…_

She looked up at the flaming sky, trying to capture its bright celebration in her heart. Nothing stirred in her heart, only deepening terror.

_Have I…have I really lost my ability to feel joy? I can't have, it was only so short…_

Around her, the evening birdcalls seemed to mock her and her foolish confidence. Now, all Rochalia could feel was guilt. She felt as though her life had just ended, but her eyes still stood open. She knew she would never be able to feel the joy of achievement, the comfort of her parents' warmth, awe, or anything she had once taken so much for granted.

Tears welled in her open eyes, no trace of light in her heart. That cursed thing, that cursed Forbidden Spirit, it had taken it all away from her.

_It can't be…it can't be…_

* * *

...

* * *

She stood on the roof of a tree house, eyes burning into the window she faced. No lights burned through the curtains; the resident had to be asleep. He would be her victim tonight.

Swiftly as her feet managed to take her, she shot through the night, over the uneven branches that hardly shook with the touch of her feet. In seconds, she was outside her target's window. Around her, the dead night echoed only the swishes of the branches as she unlatched the window with her dexterous hands, the glass pane shifting away easily under her fingers.

Her slight body allowed her to slip soundlessly through the window, landing lightly next to the man's bed, upon the carpeted floor.

Her dagger was drawn in her right hand. But as she stepped past the invisible protection line, light burst before the man's eyes, and he awoke. She had anticipated this—everyone in Ellinia had started to place these lines around themselves after she had begun her reign in the town.

"No…Dragon…" his exclamation was full of fear, his eyes echoing the emotions in his voice.

She paid him no heed. She had singled him out. She wanted to _kill _him.

Not hesitating once, she had her dagger at his throat. He made a move she had hardly anticipated; his fist flew at her with surprising speed.

With too much ease, she slipped away from the attack, to his surprise. Now, he had managed to reach his staff, which stood leaning against his bed.

"Get back, you can't kill me…"

Her steps were like a dance, timed perfectly to sidestep everything he managed. Her spell-like grace kept him frozen with awe for a moment, the way she simply stepped away from his flaming spells as if enjoying herself, her dance divinely choreographed.

Her Dance was lethal, the key to all her murders. And in moments, the man had died, not even ready for the final strike of the dagger.

* * *

It had hurt. Rochalia had lived with no feelings for all her life since nine. She could not be happy, could not smile when the others did, her smiles empty and weak when she tried. She could not feel happy when she succeeded, when her parents showed her their smiles, when she was given a reason to celebrate.

She had lived for years in sadness, rage and guilt, and it hurt. It hurt her to the core to have to live without happiness, like a stake that was driven deeper into her heart and her existence, every time she saw others laughing as they played, smiling with their parents, enjoying a fine day.

Under all that pain and emptiness, she was slowly becoming mad. It was a process in which she had no power; she was losing her humanity, losing the will to live.

Now, the only thing that drove her on was killing. She languished in the sight of the dead, the dead at her feet, brought down by her own hands, by her bloodied dagger. No, she didn't enjoy killing; it simply gave her a sense of stability, every time she killed. She had found her gift of gracefulness and dexterity to be useful in this way, and had used it to commit countless murders.

_Let them die. Let them know death, and know that the pain I feel is worse than death._

She still brooded over the day in the forest, thought about that accursed Forbidden Spirit. Why had it chosen her? It had been her stupidity, she knew, and that only drowned her deeper into guilt and despair.

She killed another person every week. Now, everyone called her the Dragon, her ability to kill unrivalled by any before her. She had gained a terrible reputation among the people, one that created fear with the very mention.

Somehow, she knew that her despair would not be driven away by killing. She knew that something would, something _had to, _not this. But it was all she could think to do. Kill and kill. Vent her frustration and withheld anger on everyone else.

She was perfect, a perfect assassin. She had no weaknesses. No one would ever end her reign.

* * *

_As the morning sun rose, the shouts of all in the eastern side of Ellinia echoed the same message—"The Dragon has struck again."_

_The price on her head was then raised to twenty million that afternoon. All around the town, citizens were becoming more and more fearful. Why did the Dragon kill so many? Would they be her next victim? And when, when would it all end?_

_They knew of her dance, all of them. They knew that they stood no chance up against it. The entire community was held in terror, and more placed protection charms around their homes and beds._

_Would she ever be caught? What would happen if she wasn't? Would anything ever bring her down?_

* * *

...

* * *

She gazed towards a house in the depths of the darkness, her sharp eyes able to make out its shape against the understorey of the great Ellinian forest. Her mind was made up—this person would be the next to go under her hands.

As she leapt, she saw the river shining beyond the trees, outside. She saw, there, on its bank, a sleeping girl.

No, _she_ would be hers tonight. The innocence in her calmly closed eyes made her angry, so furious she didn't comprehend it herself. Why should _she _be allowed a good life, full of joy and light? She wanted her dead. She would be the Dragon's next victim.

Through the branches she flew, only feeling her feet touch the branches before leaping away, steps light and soundless. The glimmering river came closer with every leap, and for a few instants, she recalled the day her life had lost all meaning.

Her feet led her to the edge of the river; there were the girl lay, still asleep, unaware of the murderess' presence. Her breaths were shallow and relaxed, she could see from a distance away.

Something stirred behind the trees. She glanced right, and saw a shadow.

Suddenly, her heart gave a hard thump of fearful recognition. The Forbidden Spirit. Like her, it had come to seek its next victim.

At once, her entire mind seemed to change. She took one glance at the girl, and back at the Spirit as it slid softly over the grass near the bank, almost formless, towards the girl's prone figure.

_No. _No.

She couldn't let it happen again. She couldn't let this girl lead the life she had for so many, torturous years. She wouldn't let it happen.

With sudden determination, she raced forward and was before the Forbidden Spirit in moments. It was there, with definite matter and form now, standing over the unknowing girl.

She leapt upon the creature, knocking it over. It _was _made of something, black, sludge-like substance, its edge shifting rapidly between liquid and gas. Ignoring all the cold that rushed over her, all over again, she drew her dagger and got ready to stab it.

The girl had woken. "D—Dragon!" she gasped out, and seeing the dark Spirit with which she fought, fell silent.

"No, my name is Rochalia." Her reply was cut short as the creature leapt upon her again.

Slowly, the cold seemed to be creeping into her, every second she held onto the Forbidden Spirit. It lunged out at her as she let go, but she dodged aside easily, as always, the cold making her feel weak all at once.

It fought and slashed at her, taking on a new form, suddenly intent on taking her as its victim. She simply danced, danced as she always did, dodging each and every one of its attacks, danced and fought true.

Then without warning, it surrounded her like a liquid, gathered itself around her like a great carpet of blackness. It would kill her soon, she knew. It would kill her, then kill the girl, and her cause would be wasted.

_How do I kill it? How, how…_

Would it drown? Would it die if it didn't have air?

Hoping for success, within the numbing coldness of its grasp, she launched herself into the water. The Forbidden Spirit followed her in, still clinging tightly to her.

Slowly, she felt her strength and breath running out. The Spirit still hung on to her.

Then, it began to make a sound, like gasping. Its hold was loosening.

She then took hold of it and held on with all her might, all the spirit she had. She would not let go, not ever, not even if it meant she would die, this river would be her watery grave…

A minute went by. The Forbidden Spirit's struggles were becoming more and more feeble, its body moving less and less. At the same time, the world darkened, the feeling of the water around her fading slowly, leaving her and her existence behind…

_I was supposed to have no weaknesses, _Rochalia though faintly. _Why is it that I die now?_

But to her, it wasn't a weakness that had led her to her death, led her to Death's gate.

And it was as if a second brush with the Forbidden Spirit had returned her emotions. For as she died, she once again felt a tiny spark in her heart, after a decade of emptiness.

Joy, it had to be. Joy that she had killed the monster, that she had managed to save another from suffering the same fate as her, joy that she was finally free of the bonds that had held her prisoner for half her life.

Joy, at last. It was so refreshing to feel it again, even though it was only for a moment, even though, seconds later, all had faded, vanished.

* * *

The Dragon lives no more.

_All over Ellinia, this news had been expected to bring joy, but not now._

_In the morning following her death, the Dragon's body was found in the river, and alongside her, the body of the Forbidden Spirit, which, indeed, had a body._

_She had died to kill the creature, all realized. She had died to save a girl from its hands._

_Somehow, many found it a waste. She had danced well, well beyond imagination. It had been a dance of fatal ability, but it had been beautiful, nonetheless. Now, none would see it, ever again._

_Kaira sat on the bank of the river, beside the grave of the one she had once known as the Dragon._

Why…why did you die to save me? _She wondered. Was such kindness really possible with evil people like her?_

_But she knew it was, now. If her soul had been condemned by the Goddess because of all her evil deeds before, they had been cleaned away by this one act, this one, impossible act of selflessness._

"_Thank you, Rochalia" she said. Then, she laid flowers by the gravestone of the assassin, the saviour. The one who danced like a dragon in flight, but would dance no more._

"Thank you."

* * *

Well, well. What do you think? This story is not taking part in my contest, though it follows the guidelines. Rushed.

In case you didn't see it, Beginner Rochalie as a nine year old and Fire Poison Mage the man who was killed.


End file.
